


this place is shelter

by sparxwrites



Series: this place is shelter [1]
Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Cultural Differences, Angst, Communication Failure, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Memory Loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-24
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2018-02-26 21:57:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2667818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparxwrites/pseuds/sparxwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Um.” Lalna squints through the crack he’s opened between the door and the doorframe, peering outside into the night and the two figures stood on his porch, bathed in torchlight. </p><p>He knows one of them, Honeydew’s distinctive shape difficult to mistake for anyone else even in the flickering shadows cast by the torches, but the other… Well. The diffuse blue glow coming off them, visible even in the light of the torches, is just a <i>little</i> alarming. “Why are you…? What’s going on?"</p><p>(In which Honeydew turns up with a stranger, and expects science to solve all his problems. It doesn't.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	this place is shelter

**Author's Note:**

> you can find translations for all the stuff xephos says during this fic [here](http://sparxwrites.tumblr.com/post/103484029233/translations-for-xephos-speech-in-this-place-is).
> 
> inspired by all those "xephos crash lands and can't speak minecraftian and follows honeydew around like a lost puppy" text posts that have been floating around, but mostly because it gave me an excuse to make a language. the title is taken from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_N_Ck1KcAEo). enjoy! 
> 
> (they/their pronouns are used for xephos because a) their species doesn't have genders, b) honeydew and lalna have no way of asking for their gender/pronouns anyways, and c) because they currently can't speak minecraftian, they're not capable of okaying the use of gendered pronouns to describe them.)

“Um.” Lalna squints through the crack he’s opened between the door and the doorframe, peering outside into the night and the two figures stood on his porch, bathed in torchlight.

He knows one of them. Honeydew’s distinctive shape is difficult to mistake for anyone else even in the flickering shadows, but the other… Well. The diffuse blue glow coming off them, visible even in the light of the torches, is just a _little_ alarming. “Why are you…? What’s going on?

Honeydew shrugs off the question with a wave of his hand, and pushes past Lalna into the entrance to his house and rubs his hands together against the cold that’s settled into his knuckles. “Give me a moment!” he says, huffing out a breath and scrubbing at his face where it’s gone pink with the cold. “Bloody freezing out there, it is, feels like I’ve been walking for _hours_.”

The stranger follows him in after a second’s hesitation, like a lost puppy – faintly anxious, shoulders rounded and back hunched to make themself look smaller and less like a string bean, an apologetic sort of smile on their face. Lalna shuts the door warily behind the pair of them, eyes focused on the stranger with both suspicion and curiosity. “Who are you?” he asks, peering at them. “Honeydew, who is this?”

The person – Alien? Lalna’s not entirely sure – is tall, despite their attempts to convey the contrary. Between the dark hair and almond-shaped eyes and a brown tint to their skin just a shade too dark to be the result of the sun, they look reasonably normal.

The freckles scattered liberally across their cheeks and the backs of their hands, glowing with the same soft, sky-blue light as their torch-like eyes are, is… less normal.

“I found ‘em!” says Honeydew, almost proudly, like he’s talking about one of his beloved cows or pigs. “They crashed their spaceship thingy right next to where I was digging.” Grimacing a little, he tugs on his beard, combs his fingers through it a little to try and pull the windswept tangles out of it. “I uh, didn’t really mean to bring ‘em here. I was gonna come and get you, ‘cos you’re closest, and they just sort of… followed me. Thought you might be able to help – they don’t speak a word of Minecraftian, it’s driving me mad not being able to understand ‘em.”

That explains the stranger’s clothes, at least. Odd yet sensible is the best way Lalna can describe them, covering their skin from neck to wrists to feet. Their outfit has the look of a uniform about it  – but they fabric is torn, muddy and ripped and even bloodied in a few places where the stranger’s skin has been grazed deep enough.

The stranger bleeds blue, like their eyes, and Lalna instantly wonders whether he can take samples.

For a moment, there’s awkward silence, Honeydew staring at Lalna and Lalna staring at the stranger and the stranger staring at Honeydew with those impossibly blue and unnaturally bright eyes.

Then the stranger blinks, and seems to notice Lalna for the first time. “ziði kʌt-ɒt!” they say, brightly, before faltering a little. “ɬɪs ðɔɖiŋəf ɒs nɔ?” they ask, looking down at Honeydew again – and then back to Lalna, and back to Honeydew, apparently taking in the obvious difference in height and facial hair. “ɖɔʀ nɔ? …ɖɔʀ _kʌ_? ɬɪs ɹɔɪ ɒsəs?”

Honeydew smiles a little helplessly at the stranger and shrugs. “I’ve got no idea what you’re saying,” he says cheerfully, expression souring a little with distress at the flicker of frustration that crosses the stranger’s face.

“Hello?” tries Lalna, curiosity and excitement getting the best of him. It’s a pointless exercise, he knows, given the stranger’s apparent utter lack of comprehension and Honeydew’s insistence that they neither speak nor understand Minecraftian, but he can’t help trying himself. “Um. Do you speak Minecraftian?”

There’s a heartbeat where the stranger squints at him, and Lalna thinks wildly that he’s going to get an answer.

“ɬɪs ɹɔɪ ɒs?” says the stranger in response, and Lalna’s faint balloon of hope bursts. “ɬɪs gæt kʌ? dʒɪŋðæf ɒs ðutu ɒs, zɛ ʌɬiʒə nɛɖis ɹɔɪ ɒs ɒs, ɛə ɒs… gɔðʌt kɒɹiŋ ɒs ɒs.” Their voice falters, face falling, before they scrub a hand through their hair and pull themself together. “ɬɪs nɪŋʌðɔ kʌ ɹɔɪk ɒs? ʈæd ɒs iɬ ɒs zisɔ- gɛkæs ɹɔɪ dʒɔsi nɔ, ɪɹæ ʈʌ zisi ðɔɹŋ ɒs nɔ-gɔ…”

By the time they’re finished, the stranger’s shoulders are shaking, eyes brighter and looking shinier than before – although it’s hard to tell through the light behind them. There’s a look of almost desperation on their face. Lalna has absolutely no idea what to say.

They trail off at Lalna’s continuing non-comprehension, and sigh, rubbing a hand over their face. There’s an abrupt tiredness in their eyes. “zuŋiʀəf ɒs kʌt, ɬɪs?”

Honeydew pats their hip by way of consolation, the highest he can reach without going on tiptoes to get to their shoulder. “It’s okay, friend,” he says, voice soothing since he knows the words won’t be understood. “We’re gonna look after you, don’t worry!”

Some of the tension eases out of the stranger’s shoulders – or rather, some of the tension leaves as they force their composure back together to hide the fractures in it. The smile returns, but this time it’s a little more obvious how fixed and afraid it is. “...Friend?” they try hopefully, with the air of someone holding out food as a peace offering, staring down at Honeydew.

Honeydew beams like a proud parent.

Lalna sighs, and raises one eyebrow at Honeydew. “Why are they saying that?”  
“I, uh. I said it to ‘em, once or twice. Or quite a lot of times, really. Just on the walk over here.” Honeydew grins sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck with one hand. “They took to it pretty quickly.”

“Given the positive reinforcement, I’m not surprised,” mutters Lalna, just a little too loudly to go unnoticed. Honeydew pays no attention to it, though, doesn’t take it as a slight – Lalna doesn’t mean it unkindly, he knows, and is too used to the scientist’s lack of social graces to be upset by it.

Honeydew smiles again, pats Xephos’ hip as if reassuring him of Lalna’s continued friendliness, even though they don’t understand his words and therefore couldn’t possibly have been offended. “They’re a quick learner!” he says, missing the way Lalna rolls his eyes at him. “So. Can you help?”

The question throws Lalna completely, and he goes from exasperated to confused in under a second. “Um?” he says hesitantly, pushing his goggles a little higher on his head. “Help?”  
“Well, you’re a science-y person,” says Honeydew, as if that explains everything. “Can you… y’know, make a translator-y thingy for ‘em?”

Giggling nervously, Lalna brushes his palms over his labcoat. “That’s not really how science works?” he tries, baffled as always at quite how much Honeydew just _doesn’t get_ technology. “You can’t just magically build a _translator-y thingy_ without knowing what language you’re building it for, and even then it’ll take weeks, maybe months, if it’s even possible at all-”

He breaks off with a sigh at the _look_ Honeydew is giving him. “Fine. _Fine_. I’ll try my best. I’ll… I’ll talk to _Rythian_ ,” he says spitting the word out like it’s a curse. “See if he’s got anything with his stupid magic that can help.” He doesn’t relish the thought of it, and he doesn’t think Rythian’s likely to let him come within five hundred yards, but it’s worth a shot at least.

Grinning, Honeydew throws his arms around Lalna’s waist in an enthusiastic hug that seems to alarm the stranger somewhat with its exuberance. “I knew I could count on you!” he says, before clearing his throat and stepping back in sudden self-consciousness at the small noise of amusement the stranger makes. “Uh. Thanks, Lalna. I owe you.”

Scratching absently at his beard, he turns back to the problem at hand and stares up at the ridiculous height of the person next to him, all anxious blue eyes and hopeful smiles. “What d’you suggest we do in the meantime, though? They don’t speak any Minecraftian, Notch knows I’ve said enough of it to ‘em that they should’ve done _something_ by now if they knew any of it.”

Humming, Lalna taps a hand against his thigh in twitchy consideration. “Have you tried getting their name?”

“...No?” says Honeydew, tugging on his beard again and flushing slightly. It’s an obvious thing to do, now he thinks about it – but between the shock of the stranger’s arrival and the panic of trying to decide what to do with them, it’d completely skipped his mind. “That would’ve been helpful, wouldn’t it?”

Instead of answering, Lalna clears his throat and taps the stranger on the shoulder. He starts a little when the stranger instantly turns to face him. “Um, Lalna,” says Lalna, slowly and carefully, pointing to himself with a hand flat on his chest. “You?” He gestures towards the stranger, waving his hand a little impatiently. “What’s your name?”

The stranger just frowns, cocks their head to one side like Lalna’s speaking gibberish – which to them, Honeydew supposes, they are. “lælnə?” they ask, pressing a hand to their own chest, eyebrows still pulled together to form a crease just above their nose. It’s an oddly formal sort of movement, like they’re trying to copy some kind of ritual that they’ve only just discovered.

“No, no!” says Lalna, dragging a hand through the strands of hair that have escaped from his ponytail in frustration. “ _I’m_ Lalna.” He taps his chest repeatedly, hoping to get the point across through sheer repetition and slightly raised volume. “What’s your name?” He gestures at the stranger again hopefully.

Expression utterly blank with confusion, head tilted to one side like a quizzical puppy, the stranger simply stares at Lalna. “zuŋiʀəf ɒs,” they say, slowly, like they’re talking to a small child. “ʈɪsitəf kʌ siðə ɒs, ɬɪs dʒɪŋðæf?”

With a strangled noise of frustration, Lalna throws his hands up in the air and tugs at his hair. “I don’t understand you!” he says, dragging a hand across his face and giggling a little. The noise is somewhere between anxious and genuinely amused by the mess he’s making of this, a faint edge of hysteria to it. “I’m- I’m Lalna- why isn’t this working? This always works! Everyone in the entire world understands what this means!”

The stranger just shrugs a little, looks politely apologetic and a little bit afraid.

Honeydew takes it upon himself to help before Lalna gives himself an aneurysm out of sheer frustration, or makes the stranger any more scared or shocked than they evidently already are. “Honeydew,” he says, thumping a hand against his chest and grinning, proud of the solid dwarvish-ness his name. “Lalna.” He points at Lalna, who smiles a little and waves like a guilty child. Then, silently, he points at the stranger, who frowns.

“hʌnidʒu…” The confusion clears a little, and they blink. “ɛ! lælnə _kʌ_?” The stranger points at Lalna, and then nods their head in sudden understanding. “ðɪə hʌnidʒu kʌ? ʈʌn! zuŋiʀ ɒs.”

It’s more of a reaction than they’ve previously gotten, and a step in the right direction – from their gestures, it _looks_ like the stranger’s realised that Lalna is the name of the man in the lab coat with a ponytail and goggles. But it’s still not got them any closer to knowing the stranger’s name.

Sighing, Honeydew repeats the gesture in the vague hope that it might actually work properly this time. “No, no,” he says, shaking his head. “Honeydew-” He points to himself. “- and Lalna.” He points at Lalna. “And you?”

This time, when he points at the stranger, the stranger’s eyes widen with what Honeydew sincerely hopes is understanding.

“ɛ, ɒs?” The stranger frowns again, touches their chest with a slightly quizzical look, and then brightens when Lalna nods encouragingly – literally brightens. The blue glow of their freckles surges a little, a brief flare of pleased light. “...zɛf ɒs,” they say, shrugging a little and lowering their eyes to the floor. There’s a strange sort of hitch to their voice.

It’s an odd reaction to saying one’s name, but then the stranger’s a little odd too, so Honeydew doesn’t question it. As normal, the subtleties of expression and body language fly straight over Lalna’s head, and he doesn’t even notice. “Zef-os?” he repeats, carefully, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet in excitement. “Xephos? Is that your name?”

The stranger – Xephos – looks frustrated, and slices at the air with the side of their hand in what Honeydew assumes is a gesture of irritation, or possibly a _no_. “gɔʀ,” they say, dragging a hand through his hair and mussing it up into even more of a fluff than the wind already had. Their eyes are wide and shiny again, the tremor sidling its way back into their shoulders. “gɔʀ! əf zɜfɒs, _zɜf ɒs_ , ɹɔɪkəf... dʒɪŋðæf ɹɔɪk ɒs.”

“Okay there, friend,” says Honeydew, in what he hopes is a soothing tone of voice since he doubts the alien has any idea what his words actually mean. He reaches up, practically on tiptoes, to rest a hand on Xephos’s shoulder.

Pausing, Xephos frowns at him for a moment. Then they relax, shoulders slumping and back curving again as they look down at the ground. “dɪəɬɔt ɒs,” they say, looking chastised, before adding, “Friend. Friend.”

It’s almost a comfort blanket for them, thinks Lalna, watching the way they calm as they say it – a single syllable of communication, of shared sound, even if they obviously have no real idea of what it means.

After a moment, when Xephos no longer looks on the verge of panic, Honeydew tries again. “Honeydew, Lalna… Xephos?” he says, gesturing at each person in turn, voice lilting upwards hopefully as he points to the stranger they’ve dubbed Xephos for lack of any other name to give them.

For a second, Xephos raises one flat hand, goes to make the same, strange cutting motion they’d made earlier – and then they stop, and sigh.

Instead, they curl their hand into a fist and then open it again, fingers spread wide like a blooming flower in a gesture that displays the glowing freckles dotted across their palm like stars. “ʈʌn,” they says, and they sound resigned but there’s a slight smile on their face, blue eyes warm and liquid as they stare down into Honeydew’s darker ones. “ʈʌn, ɛə ɒs… zɜfɒs ɒs.”

They pause, and then raise a hand to press it to the centre of their chest. “Xephos ɒs.” Looking over at Lalna, they smile, and reach down to touch a hand to Honeydew’s shoulder, speckled with warm blue stars. “ _Friend_ Xephos.”


End file.
